


Carry On

by TheatreGirl79



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mpreg, Other, SHIELD Husbands, Stick around, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheatreGirl79/pseuds/TheatreGirl79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyday normal things do not happen in Stark Tower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Well I woke up...

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: KnitChick1979.   
> Just the first chapter, let me know what you think.   
> Even if you are unsure, stick around. Trust me.  
> (And there will be more tags and more ships added as the story goes on. Plus, the archive warning is for future chapters, not this one.)

Tony Stark was many things. One thing he was glad he was at the moment was agile. He covered his head as the glass decanter smashed the wall where his chest had been and rained down crystal pieces over him.

Phil Coulson ducked behind the couch next to Tony. “Rule number one, don’t piss off the pregnant assassin.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tony said, glaring at Phil.

“You designed a new uniform with a reinforced ‘pregnancy pouch’ in the stomach area,” Phil said with a sigh.

“Hey, you have to admit, it is a good idea.”

“They are not fit for active duty. They do not need it.”

“Tell that to every supervillian who likes to attack the Tower,” Tony replied, grabbing a piece of glass and holding it just over the top of the couch, shaking his hand as a wooden cup coaster knocked the glass from the engineer’s hand.

“Give up?” Phil said.

“Give up? Never. Truce. Sure. Don’t need to overstress the fetus. It’s got to be cramped enough as it is in there.” Tony grinned at Phil.

“Forget it. I have enough things to throw. If not, I just have to wait for Tasha to bring me my bow.” Clint Barton picked up another coaster, eased down in the chair, and used his enlarged belly as a guide.

Tony scowled and quickly stood up facing Clint. “Not fair, that’s— AAIII!” Tony dropped to the ground, grimacing as his butt hit a couple of hard pieces of glass, as he ducked the projectile coaster.

“Sir,” JARVIS said, his voice cutting through the room. “May I suggest a tactical surrender? Miss Romanov is already on the floor below, with Mr. Barton’s regular artillery.”

“Fine, fine,” Tony grumbled, holding his hands up as he stood up and turned to face Clint, only to have a cup coaster bounce off his stomach. “Hey!”

“Oh, maybe you should have had a ‘protection pouch’ built in to your shirt,” Clint sniped as he braced himself on the cushions of the chair and pushed himself back up, his arm muscles straining.

Phil let out a breath and got up, dusting off any debris and quickly strode over to Clint, going to help him, only to be stopped by a withering glare from Clint. Phil shifted to his other foot and folded his hands in front of him, not moving from Clint’s side. Phil’s head snapped up as the emergency exit door slammed open and Natasha Romanov ran in, carrying Clint’s bow and quiver.

“Already?” Natasha asked, waving her hand between Tony and Clint.

“I’m good. Remember? Even like this.” Clint cocked his head to the side, grinning at Natasha.

“And never underestimate defensive strategy from JARVIS,” Phil chimed in. He held out a hand to Clint. “Perhaps that’s enough excitement for today.”

Clint waved off Phil as he struggled to get up himself. “You know Stark, they make chairs with things called arms. You might want to get some.”

“I don’t need them,” Tony retorted.

Clint’s head snapped towards Tony as his hand scrambled for more coasters. Natasha shoved the bow and quiver into Phil’s arms as she wrapped her hands around Clint’s, pulling them together and starting to help heave him upwards. She stayed in front of Clint the whole time, blocking Tony from him.

“Let’s go. There’s puppy chow ice cream waiting in the freezer for you,” Natasha said, practically pulling Clint towards the elevator.

“See, you know how to take care of a pregnant person, not mock them,” Clint snapped, leaning on Natasha.

“You just know I’ll wait to kick your ass until you’re not pregnant,” Natasha retorted. She lead Clint into the elevator and waited for Phil to join them before sending it to the boy’s floor in the Tower.

Tony grumbled, shaking his head. “JARVIS, where do I find the broom and dustpan?”

“Under the bar, on the west end, Sir,” 

Tony found the requested items and started cleaning up the mess, not knowing that someone else was watching him through the security feed in the Tower. Nor did it register with JARVIS when they switched feeds to Phil and Clint’s apartment, watching as the archer waddled through the front door and Phil followed behind, a hand on Clint’s back, talking quietly in his ear.


	2. Heart Like The 4th of July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: KnitChick1979
> 
> Ummmmmm...... the plot thickens?

Tony threw several more blows at Steve Rogers inside the boxing ring. The hits echoed off the walls of the private gym the engineer had added to Stark Tower. After providing housing for his fellow Avengers, and a couple of other friends of course. Steve easily ducked and tapped Tony on both shoulders before stepping back towards his corner for some water. Tony did the same.

“I still don’t get it. Clint and I, we had a thing—“

“A _thing_? Is that what they call it this century?” Steve smirked across the ring at Tony.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tony sputtered out. “More like mutual admiration with a bit of wit, humor.”

“Condescending rebuttals, quips, and bad jokes,” Steve added.

“Yeah. But with this pregnancy…thing,” Tony said, glaring at Steve, challenging him to comment again. “Clint chews my head off after every little thing I do to try and make it easier.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want this to be easy?” Steve stretched his neck and came back to the middle of the ring.

“Why not? It’s got to be hell. If it was me, it would be. Hell, I doubt I would have made it this far.”

“That’s the difference between you and Barton. He doesn’t seem like someone who would appreciate easy street.”

“Are you saying I had things too easy?” Tony shook himself out before joining Steve in the center again. 

“I didn’t say that Stark. I meant, he’s the kind of guy—“ Steve let out a sigh as the lights flickered.

“Sir,” the automated voice of JARVIS said over the speakers in the gym.

“What is it JARVIS?” Tony didn’t move from his spot.

“Sir? Do you wish something?”

“Didn’t he just call you?” Steve asked.

Tony nodded at Steve. “JARVIS, what did you want? And why did the lights flicker?”

“There is nothing wrong with the electrical systems,” JARVIS reported. “And I wanted nothing Sir. You asked me ‘What is it?’ and I responded.”

Pulling his boxing gloves off and tossing them to the mat, Tony ducked between the ropes and jumped down to the main floor of the gym, grabbing his Stark tablet from the bench next to the ring. He pulled up the schematics for the Tower. Everything reported normal with no fluctuations, but both him and Steve had seen the lights flicker, and then there was JARVIS’ odd interruption.

Steve pulled off his gloves and grabbed Tony’s from the mat. “Go do a diagnostic or whatever you need to do. I’ll clean up.” 

Tony nodded and took off, planning a check on JARVIS’ systems, and the Tower as well. Steve put the gloves away in the equipment room and was unwrapping his hands as the gym was plunged into darkness.


	3. Head In The Curtains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Phil time at last.  
> Or maybe not.

“You don’t think it’s odd Phil?” Clint paced back and forth across the living room. Normally he would have been perched somewhere like the back of the couch, but the baby he was carrying - he still cringed even now thinking about that - had decided that sitting on his sciatic nerve was the best place to hang out. For some reason walking made it bearable since he didn’t dare take any painkillers, not knowing what it would do to the baby, or his own body at this point.

“That there was a temporary electrical outage in Stark Tower that trapped Captain Rogers in the gym, yes, that is worrisome, but I am sure Stark has worked out whatever bug it is, and built a newer, better lighting system for the gym five times already.” Phil pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back against the couch, as he tried to talk reasonably to Clint.

“No he hasn’t.” Clint started making his pacing more of an oval instead of a line, clenching and unclenching his hand. “Stark doesn’t know what did it.”

“And how do you know this?” Phil dropped his hands to his knees, looking up at Clint.

“I just figured, since he wasn’t crowing about figuring it out and having to show us the new design.” Clint stopped, his back to Phil as he looked out the floor to ceiling windows over the city. Hands on his hips, he tried stretching out his back, letting out a low moan. Phil was the only one he vocalized any discomfort in front of.

“Natasha hacked you into the camera feed in Stark’s workshop again, didn’t she? If he catches you—“

“He’ll do what? Build me an antigravity baby buggy? Or better yet, a floating wheelchair so I don’t have to strain myself? Oh why not!” Clint curled both hands into fists against his hips as his voice slightly rose in pitch.

Phil rolled his neck hearing it crack, and stood up, crossing over to Clint. He had been by Clint’s side the whole eight months, but the last two his job title seemed to be, ‘Keep Barton Calm, and then other SHIELD stuff.’ Phil put his hands on the archer’s shoulders, softly massaging them. Clint tried to pull away at first, but then melted under the touch. His body rolled forward as Phil’s fingers worked up and down his back.

“Stark means well.”

“I don’t need him to. I don’t need anyone pitying me. This is ridiculous, but it happened, and I’ll deal with it.”

“We’ll.”

“What?” Clint turned his head, looking over his shoulder at Phil.

“We’ll deal with it.”

“Phil, with all the mumbojumbo that happened, we won’t be sure this is yours until I give birth. If I give birth.” Clint turned back to the city, not meeting Phil’s eyes. 

The agent wrapped his arms around Clint’s midsection, resting his hands over the baby bump. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here for you. And for the baby. And if anyone can carry this to term and deal with all the craziness, it’s you.” Phil kissed Clint’s neck and nestled his chin in the hollow of the other man’s shoulder. They stood there for a couple of minutes, staring at the skyline when Phil’s phone went off. He disentangled himself from Clint and stepped back, answering the mobile. “Coulson.”

Clint ambled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and just staring into it, trying to see what seemed appealing. He finally pulled out a piece of double chocolate cheesecake. Clint leaned against the counter, eating the cheesecake, watching Phil talk on the phone, every so often glancing through the doorway at Clint. He tried to save half the cheesecake for Phil, but before he knew it, Clint was putting an empty plate and fork down on the counter as Phil came into the kitchen. The agent grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to Clint.

“Phil, if I drink any more water, between that and the kid using my kidneys as a soccer ball, I might as well just live on the toilet.”

“You need to stay hydrated.”

“And you’re going into work.”

“How do you know that?”

“You’re making sure I’m taken care of, and you have that crinkle next to your eye. It does things.” Clint made his way back into the living room and turned on the tv, dropping onto the couch with a loud groan. “I’m surprised you didn’t somehow make dinner for me.”

“It’ll be delivered in about half an hour.” Phil packed his Stark tablet and laptop into his bag before crouching in front of Clint. “I’m sorry. I know I said I was home tonight—“

“I remember the job. It hasn’t been that long. I know things come up. Go. I’ll be fine.”

Phil gave Clint a quick peck on the lips before getting up and hurrying out of the apartment. The archer absently drank the water, trying to concentrate on the latest drama ABC was debuting. After a while he stared down at his stomach, rolling his eyes.

“Seriously? I just went an hour ago.” Clint pushed himself up and made his way to the bathroom. As soon as he sat down on the toilet the alarms went off and Stark Tower went into lockdown mode.


	4. Hold The Phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another blackout and lockdown. Or is it?

Tony looked up as Steve barged into the secure room, the straps of his shield over the left shoulder. “Glad you could join the party,” Tony quipped as he scanned the information JARVIS was feeding him on the lockdown and evacuation of Stark Tower.

“I couldn’t access this stairwell at first. It wasn’t accepting my passcode,” Steve replied, putting the shield on the conference table. “What happened?”

“JARVIS hasn’t told me who or what triggered the lockdown. I don’t have the time to get into the system to see what is wrong with him while managing the whole thing with getting civilians and employees out of the Tower.”

“Hawkeye does that. It’s the only thing he can do right now, and he’s good at it, seeing the whole picture.”

“Yah, well, it would be nice if he was here to do it.” Tony’s fingers flew over the console as he released another one of the lower floors and watched as the janitorial staff quickly left.

“JARVIS, where is Hawkeye?” Steve looked at the computer display.

“Hawkeye, Clint Barton, is in his quarters. Safe and sound.”

“Don’t you think I already asked that?” Tony said, hazarding an annoyed glance at Steve. “He might be exhausted. Clint’s about ready to pop any day. At least he won’t chew my head off this time.”

“JARVIS, patch me—“ Steve stopped as the building shook.

“Detonation on level 47,” JARVIS alerted them.

“Anymore surprises?” Tony said quickly, releasing the lockdown for the floors around the explosion and diverting the personnel to the opposite exit. Before Tony could look at the next display, the building rocked again. “I had to ask.”

“Detonation on level—“

“That’s three floors below Barton and Coulson.” Steve grabbed his shield and headed to the door. “I’m going to get him. Carry Barton if I have to.”

“Make sure you take a selfie if you do. I want to see that.” Tony kept coordinating the building as JARVIS prepped his suit in the main room.

Steve nodded as he hurried out and made his way to the lower level. He typed in his passcode, but it didn’t release the door. Steve tried again, but nothing.

“Step back,” Natasha said, running past him and putting a SHIELD sanctioned explosive between the door handle and the keypad. She dragged Steve to the corner of the stairwell as the device went off. Letting go of him, she kicked at the weakened door jamb and made her way onto Clint’s floor. Steve followed behind her and barreled down the wood door at the end of the hallway. “Thanks,” Natasha muttered.

A third explosion shook the building as Steve and Natasha entered Clint and Phil’s apartment. Natasha pulled out a small handgun, another one at the ready as Steve lead the way, his shield in front of them. They checked the kitchen and living room, only to find nothing. Natasha moved into their bedroom through the one door, but that too was clear, as was the master bathroom. They took the secondary door out and Steve stopped in his tracks.

“Natasha,” Steve said, his voice low as he pointed at the spots on the carpet. 

She crouched down and touched one, some of the moisture staining her fingers red. Natasha hung her head as she saw the trail lead to another empty bathroom. Standing up, she could feel how tense her body had become. They followed the trail, checking the den and office areas, plus the spare bedroom. Nothing. Natasha stared at the blood spots.

“No trail past that point,” Steve said, pulling out his phone and taking photos for evidence. “That means—“

“I know everything it could mean,” Natasha calmly said. She looked up at Steve. “Help Stark. Make sure the civilians get out.” She let out a deep breath. “I’ll tell Phil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for so long between updating - real life got scary.


	5. Lost and Alone

Clint let out a shuddering breath, which promptly turned into a coughing fit. His throat felt raw as his own spit seemed to catch in it. Going to sit up, Clint immediately realized he couldn’t when his arms fought back against his forward momentum. Taking a slow, deep breath, he tried to look around the dark room, but there was nothing in it to give off light. At least he hoped it was just the room that was this dark and they hadn’t blinded him.

His heart raced, thumping along inside his chest as if it was riding a pogo stick. He was no threat to them, why would they blind him? Of course, Clint couldn’t even remember who ‘they’ were. Clint tried to calm down, laying back against the cool metal, and assess his situation. He tugged on his hands, spread eagle and not moving. Fingers felt around his wrists and followed the chain - metal cuffs and actual chain, with a separate lock, so old fashioned. He could work with that. It felt like his ankles were secured the same way. Clint tried to shake what he was laying on, but it felt like a solid slab. Could they get any more sci-fi torture chamber sacrifice in their design?

Continuing with his self assessment, Clint noticed part of his t-shirt was stiff and sticking to his stomach. Very few things dried like that. Clint let out an inaudible groan as he remembered the struggle and the pain he felt before seeing the blood. It was then that they knocked him out. He guessed he had surprised them. They probably didn’t expect a man ready to deliver a baby any day to put up that much of a struggle, but like hell he was going down. Closing his eyes, Clint let out a sigh. “Sorry kiddo,” he whispered to the baby.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

“Sir, there is something on the television you should see.”

“Not now JARVIS,” Tony said, working between a laptop and a holographic display of Stark Tower.

“Why is he even still online?” Steve asked, pacing along the floor to ceiling windows in Tony’s penthouse. He glanced over at Pepper and Bruce trying not to hover around Phil. Steve glanced around for Natasha. When he couldn’t spot her, her let out a mild groan. That was never a good sign.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Tony replied, pulling the projection apart, floor by floor.

“Because, he’s been compromised.” Steve folded his arms across his chest.

“He still knows his system as well as I do. I can’t lose JARVIS right now.”

“Sir, there is something you should see,” JARVIS said to the room.

“No JARVIS. Daddy has to see who hacked you and then hunt them down to hurt them before giving them a scholarship.”

“Didn’t you say JARVIS tried to warn you before?” Bruce asked from the couch. He was holding Pepper’s hand because Phil wasn’t letting anyone hold his. 

“And what does that have to do with cost of vibranium in—“

“I’m sorry sir, I really must insist you watch this.” With that, the large tv embedded in the one wall flicked on. But the only thing visible was the darkness.

“That’s too dark to be a blank tv,” Bruce said, sitting up on the edge of the couch.

“You’re right my green friend,” Tony said as he started a tracer on the feed. “JARVIS, who is sending this?”

“I do not know sir.”

“That’s not good,” Pepper said.

“It’s only being broadcast here,” Phil said, looking up from his digital pad. “Not even SHIELD is receiving this. Stark, are you recording this?”

“I am now.” Tony’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “What is it?”

Before anyone could respond, a cough echoed out of the surround sound speakers. There was a groan, and then a familiar voice called out, “Hey, if you’re going to kidnap me, and chain me up, I’m not really into those kinks, so how about some pillows and chocolate instead?”

“Если они не убить его, я буду,*” Natasha said, striding back into the room, her own PDA in hand.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Clint couldn’t hear a thing around him. Normally him mouthing off usually got some kind of reaction. He waited, a couple of minutes, before he decided to start singing. “This is the song that never ends. It goes on and on my friends. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they’ll continue singing it forever just because this is the song that never ends.” He was into the tenth rendition of the song when Clint hissed as the room was flooded with enough fluorescent light that it would make a blind man beg for mercy.

He stilled as an electric hum filled the air around the room. The light was coming from every angle and Clint squinted, afraid to close his eyes. “If I wasn’t blind before,” he mumbled. Without warning a jolt of electricity snaked into his body from the four cuffs on his wrists and ankles, and Clint was reminded just how well metal conducted electricity. He let out a yelp as his muscles flexed and burned. Luckily it seemed to stay in just his extremities and not reach his stomach.

“Is that all you got?” Clint called out.

Somehow he noticed a shift in lift and grunted, his teeth clenched together, as a sharp pain lanced across the top of his stomach. Clint slowly let out a breath, huffing in the air as there was another shift in light and pain flared along the middle of his stomach. He coughed, trying to drag air inside his lungs. 

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Pepper and Steve watched with horror as Clint convulsed three more times on the slab. Steve put a comforting hand on her shoulder, feeling useless for once.

“Stark! I need to know where they are,” Phil said, his voice tinged with rage.

“I’m trying. I can’t find it—“

“You will find it! I am not taking any other answer from you. We have to find him.” Phil’s voice rose with each word, each syllable punched so hard that Bruce and Tony stared at him in shock.

“On it,” Tony muttered. “JARVIS, you better shake your hacking friends and help me.”

“Phil,” Natasha said, coming up behind him, the only one courageous enough to touch his arm. “We’ll find him. You need to calm down.”

Phil stared down Natasha for a moment, distracted by a small squeak from Pepper as she looked away from the screen. Everyone else in the room looked towards the tv. Phil sat down before his legs could give out, eyes never laving the vision on the screen. Clint’s movements with each hit had made his t-shirt rise up, showing off five distinct welts across his stomach. But that wasn’t what Phil noticed. What he noticed was the wetness covering Clint’s pants. Phil had calculated the percentage of the stress causing Clint to go into early labor when the screen went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *(Russian for) If they don’t kill him, I will.


	6. May Your Past Be The Sound Of Your Feet Upon the Ground

Clint slowly exhaled, hands clasped around his protruding belly. Inhaling, he let out a huff of breath through clenched teeth, a low keening sound coming from his throat. Eyes squeezed shut, Clint counted backwards in his head, like he had done on so many missions, waiting for the target to move from behind the wall, or whatever immoveable device they had put themselves behind. He had the patience, and the stubbornness, he could outwait them. He would make it through this.

He dropped his head back against the cold stone slab. When they - whoever they were - had released the cuffs, Clint slid off the stone and down to the ground, after putting a foot down and making sure there were no spikes, snakes, or any of that. Since the initial torture they hadn’t come back, but that had simply left him alone with what he could only assume was the crushing pain of contractions. Clint snorted out a derisive laugh. Of course it was contractions when he was captured, tortured, and there was no one around to do the c-section. Since his body hadn’t sprouted other organs to deliver a baby with, a cesarean was their only option. It had been planned for weeks, and now it was all cocked up. 

His fingers clenched around his stomach as another wave of pain rolled over him. Clint panted and tried to go to his “happy place” as Bruce had dubbed it. Luckily the doc had helped enough midwives and helped with enough births in the backwater towns he had hid in to be Clint’s unofficial obstetrician. He didn’t know what he would have done without Bruce.

The pain started to cloud his mind. Clint took a deep breath and closed his eyes, imagining the last time Phil and him had a day alone. They never left the apartment. It was warm out, but perfect inside the Tower. If he thought hard enough he could remember how Phil smelled, that mix of shampoo, deodorant, and shaving cream that was his alone. He could practically feel Phil’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, chin nestled in the crook of Clint’s neck, a slight stubble beginning which had rubbed along Clint’s shoulder. Phil’s soft breathing echoed in his ear, teasing it, making him smile. Phil had just held him as they watched some silly science fiction marathon. This was the Phil Clint loved. Oh sure, he loved the agent that made others seem like grade schoolers, the man who got things done, the Coulson that was a hero. But this was his Phil: the friend, the lover, the man who put up with his odd sleep schedules, the one who talked him down out of a prank war with Stark, the man that had his back and held his hand through this whole pregnancy. It never seemed to matter to Phil what demons haunted them from Clint’s past, he merely shrugged his shoulders, gave it a cold hard look, slipped his shades on and kept Clint walking forward.

Letting out a sigh, Clint opened his eyes, only to blinded by light once again. “At least show me who you are! Maggia? A.I.M.? Hydra? Loki? Who? Tell me who you are.” At least if they were going to kill him he wanted to know who it was that bested the greatest archer in the world. 

He jumped as he felt something slimy and freezing wrap around his right arm. Clint tried pulling away, pushing back with his feet, but it would not budge. It was too bright in the room, he had to squint, and still couldn’t see shapes. How were they doing this? The tentacle, or something, seemed to be pulling him away from the slab. Clint punched down with his left hand, determined to stay put. At least he knew the torture in this room and could survive it. The thing stopped fighting him and Clint took a breath, only to have the tiny shard of hope replaced with dread as he felt the cold spread throughout his body, making his stomach clench. It released him as Clint fell onto his side, unable to move, but the pain in his stomach was gone. The lights in the room dimmed, but all the archer saw was a pair of black loafers before his eyes closed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The quinjets weren’t that big, and yet no one sat next to Phil. He studied the satellite images on the location Tony had found. It was not as secluded as they thought it would be, but remote enough that a body could have been brought in. Or they were all walking into a trap, and the signal had been sent through a dummy post. Looking round the plane they had borrowed from S.H.I.E.L.D., Phil figured they all knew what they were walking into. The only one who seemed nervous was Bruce, and there was a whole other reason for that. The scientist hoped he could keep the Other Guy at bay long enough to help Clint if he was in labor, and if the ‘Big Green Machine’, as Clint had called it, came out, he wouldn’t hurt the archer.

Natasha sat down next to Phil. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “That map won’t tell you everything it knows, you can stop interrogating it,” she said, her voice low. 

“Something has to Tasha,” Phil said, not even looking up from the screen.

Reaching across him, Natasha turned off the screen on the digital pad. 

“Isn’t there a plane you’re supposed to be flying,” Phil said, finally looking up at her.

“Steve has it. He’s been learning. I’m confident in him. I’m more worried about you.”

“You don’t have to be worried agent.” Natasha raised an eyebrow at the use of the word ‘agent’. “We are going to go in, get him out, and see what’s left behind.”

“Don’t do this,” she quietly said.

“What?”

“Distance yourself. It won’t help.”

Phil let out a laugh. “You’re one to talk about distance and emotion.” Phil sat back, seeing the look on her face. “I have to Tasha. I have to do whatever is necessary to get him and the baby out alive. Not just for S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Avengers. I need him home,” Phil said, the last sentence barely a whisper. “I’ve been compromised when it comes to Barton.”

“Haven’t we all,” Natasha quipped. She put her hand over his, giving it a squeeze. “We’ll find him. Or he’s probably outside with a box of ribs and waiting for us to pick him up.”

“Crenshaw,” Phil said, shaking his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I still want to know where he found a rib joint out there.”

“That is part of the mystery of Clint Barton,” Natasha said. She smiled at Phil. “We’ll get him back.”

“Coming up on the landing zone,” Steve said from the cockpit. 

Bruce quickly sat down across from Phil, buckling himself in. Natasha gave Phil one last pat on the arm and pushed herself up, heading for the cockpit when the world spun around. Her body bounced between the two seats as the jet went into a sudden tailspin. Steve worked at correcting it, but whatever had hit them was too quick and too heavy. 

“Cap to Iron Man, we are going down. Stay clear and watch out for more fire,” Steve spoke into his communication earpiece as he saw the ground headed straight for them. He banked he plane and they landed with a thud, taking out several trees, and killing the quinjet. Steve pushed at the bulkhead that had tried collapsing on top of him.

Phil brought his head up, wiping at the gash on his forehead. He would be okay. He looked down, glad to see Natasha was groggy, but coming around. His eyes found the seat across from him, empty. Phil quickly released his belts, dropping down the small incline the plane seemed to be on. He couldn’t see Bruce, but there was a hole in the back of the jet, and in the distance they heard the roar of the Hulk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some angst, yes, but stick with me. There is a method to the madness.


	7. I Am Not The Ghost You Want Of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just who is this rescue mission for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: KnitChick1979
> 
> Sorry about so long between updates. Thank you for sticking around.

Tony landed on the edge of a small copse of trees, raising the visor on his helmet. “According to JARVIS you'll all live to see another day,” he quipped, watching Phil read the scans the engineer had sent him from the suit's metrics. 

“Did you find Banner?” Steve asked as he holstered a spare gun.

As if in response there was a loud roar to the West of the factory they crashed next to, and the ground trembled. 

“How about over there?” Tony snarked. “But it's not Banner, it's Hulk, and he's pissed off. There's ground to air missiles coming from the Southwest corner and the Northeast corner. Two nearly clipped me as well. I was quicker than you guys.”

“More manueverable as well,” Steve said, pulling his cowl down over his face.

“I'm willing the bet the interior factory schematics we pulled up from the county are faked since they never mentioned anything about military grade strike missiles in the plans either.” Natasha charged up her gauntlets.

“Then we improvise,” Phil said.

“Someone needs to oversee Hulk. Send the big guns in if we need him, and once we find out where Barton is,” Steve said.

The sky above them darkened as several bolts of lightning flashed around the group. “I think I have the perfect babysitter,” Tony said as Thor landed next to them. “Glad you got my message big guy.”

“Indeed. I am curious as to how you were able to contact Heimdall, but that is a discussion for another day. Where is Clint?” The god's jaw tightened as he saw the injuries to his friends and comrades.

“Inside that factory,” Natasha said, moving forward under cover.

“But we need your help another way,” Steve said. 

“What is it?”

“We need you to keep Hulk occupied. Take out the missile towers on the corners and don't let anyone leave without a fight. We want everyone involved in this.” He brought his shield forward.

Thor nodded. “I will do my best. It is good the beast and I understand each other warrior to warrior.” Thor took off, running between the trees as he made his way to Hulk.

“Now I get to go--”

“No,” Phil said, cutting Tony off. “You're not exactly stealthy.”

“Phil,” Tony started. “I think they know we're here. What's the point in being quiet? I have a missile or two of my own for them.”

“Not until we have coordinates for Barton.” Steve's lips pressed together as he looked at Phil. “Natasha and I will recon. No one else.”

Phil gave him a withering look.

Natasha put a hand on his shoulder, her body pressing along Phil's. “Любовь, он будет спасен.”

Phil sighed and stepped back. “Do not shut off your comms. First time you don't answer, I am coming in, even if I have to use Iron Man as a human shield.”

“Hey!”

“Problem?”

“Nope. I'll just charge SHIELD.”

Steve nodded and waved Natasha forward as he made his way through t he treeline to the other side of the building. He ducked from the wood of a tree exploding over his head as Thor and Hulk egged on the missiles. Running up the metal staircase to a back door, Steve forced it open before rolling inside, shield up. He crept along the wall, keeping his footfalls quiet along the steel catwalk, keeping his ears open for any sound. The captain's body stilled as he recognized the hum they had heard on the television monitor. 

Slipping the shield over his back, Steve gripped the railing and somersaulted over, landing lightly on the cement ground. He followed the hum down a narrow hallway to a heavy steel door. Wrapping his hand around the doorknob, Steve gave a hearty tug, but it did not budge. He looked around before taking several steps back. Running at the door, he braced the meaty part of his shoulder down and jammed it against the area above the lock. The third time he did this, the door gave way with a loud groan. 

His steps were slow and purposeful as Steve entered the room, senses on alert as he recognized the slab Clint had been chained to. A lump caught in his throat as Steve saw the same viscous liquid they had found in the apartment, along with a small puddle of blood. Crouching down, he touched it, suppressing a shudder as it was still fresh enough to stick to his fingers.

“Report,” Phil said over the comms.

Steve tried to respond, but his earpiece wasn't working. “Coulson? Natasha?” He waited and heard nothing. “Stark?” Steve quickly left the room, not knowing he was being recorded the whole time. He made his way back down the hallway. Coming into the main floor of the factory, Steve slinked along the old packing crates until he stumbled on Natasha, knocked unconscious. “Coulson? Stark? Do you read me?” Static was his answer.

Grimacing at the choice of getting Natasha to safety or finding Clint, Steve scooped up Natasha, hoping to get her clear before continuing for Clint. He had started towards a side door when the wall in front of him blew in. Steve turned quickly and crouched over Natasha, the shield on his back shrouding them from the debris.

When he got no answer, Phil unholstered his weapon and tucked the Stark tablet away, moving for the building. He was not losing anyone today, even if it cost his life. Phil glanced at Tony as he flew past, blasting out the new weapons that had activated in place of the missiles. They had arranged for the feed from Tony's suit to be sent to Fury's personal database on a delay should anything happen to them.

Phil slipped in the door Natasha had opened earlier. He ran across the factory floor, away from the building trying to cave in, and found himself face to face with two hallways. “Come on Clint,” he whispered to himself. If the archer had been able to, he would have left a clue. 

Looking at the floor, Phil spotted a glint of metal. He ran over and picked up the folded Hershey's kiss wrapper from in front of a solid door with a small window. Clint had been addicted to Hershey's kisses his last trimester. He slid his back along the wall before peeking through the window and his heart sank. There was _his archer_ , slumped on the floor, a wad of blankets in his lap. He didn't seem to be moving. 

Phil looked around, checking out the area before yanking the door open. He moved quickly, sprinting across the room, weapon ready, sliding down at Clint's side. “We got you Barton.”

Clint's head snapped up, staring at Phil. The agent went to move the blankets from Clint's lap, when the bundle moved. He pulled the corner back, and felt his heart drop as he looked into tiny blue eyes, just like Clint's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Любовь, он будет спасен = Love, he will be saved.


	8. I Woke Up To The Sound Of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath, Clint has some things to think about.

Clint awoke with a start, sweat beaded on his forehead, his hands clenched, and his voice caught in his throat. He blinked a couple of times, trying to focus on the room around him. Suppressing a whine, he looked over as he felt the bed dip under the weight of someone else.

“It's okay. You're safe,” Phil said, keeping his voice low and steady. “Safe and sound.” He slowly folded his hand over one of Clint's fists, inwardly sighing as he felt how they shook. “Relax. No one is going to hurt you here.” Problem was, they already had.

Glancing down at his stomach, Clint turned his attention on Phil. “The baby?”

“Getting checked out right now.”

Clint sat up quickly, a growl in his throat. He didn't want S.H.I.E.L.D. thinking they could take his child for any reason. “No, Phil, not--” he mumbled.

Phil put a hand on Clint's chest, stilling him. “Stop. She's with Banner. We discussed this. Bruce and Tony are checking her over like we planned, with a couple of extra scans to see if they did anything.”

“Her,” Clint softly whispered. He took a deep breath, letting Phil help him settle back on the bed.

“Are you done strangling the sheets yet?” the agent asked, a small hint of playfulness in his voice.

Slowly releasing his hands, Clint flexed his fingers as he laid them back at his side. He looked around the room, thankful Phil had brought him back to their bedroom and not a medical ward. He was tired of Medical, and they weren't thrilled with him last time. They should have believed he was pregnant. Clint sighed as Phil touched his forehead before getting up and fetching the archer some water.

“How badly did you torture the bastards?” Clint asked, staring at Phil's back.

The agent continued pouring the water from a pitcher one of the team had brought in. He tried avoiding the question, grabbing a bottle of high grade painkillers as well. Making his way back to Clint, Phil held out the bottle. “You should rest.”

Clint's hand shot out like a rocket, knocking the bottle aside. He didn't even watch as the lid broke against the wall and pills went skittering about the room. “Tell me what happened,” Clint practically growled. “Where are those fucking bastards?”

Putting the water on the side table, Phil sat down next to Clint. He looked his lover in the face as he took one hand in both of his. “Not here. We didn't catch any of them.”

Squirming his hand out of Phil's grasp, Clint looked away. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to breathe. They were still out there. Somewhere those bastards were still alive and waiting to come back. A couple of tears fell as he realized no matter what he did, no matter what Phil thought he could do, or security system Tony thought he could build, protection Steve and Thor thought they could provide, care Bruce gave, or love Natasha had, their child would never be safe.

“Clint--”

“Don't you have some newbie spies to wipe the chin of, and hold their hands?”

“Don't.”

“Don't what? What does it matter anymore? If it's not S.H.I.E.L.D., or someone else wanting to experiment on me – and I get it, the scientific implications and stuff, but I am not a lab monkey, and neither is my child – then we have people trying to hurt her because she knows us. We will never be able to keep her safe. What's the point?” He sat up, swinging his legs down along the bed.

Phil quickly came around the bed and put his hands on Clint's shoulders, not letting go even when he tried to brush them off. Phil crouched in front of the man, staring into his eyes. “Look at me. There is a point. The point is right now being cared for by Hulk and Iron Man. You protected and covered that _point_ despite the building falling down around us. We kept her safe for 9 months--”

“8 months.”

“Right.” Phil shook his head at the interruption. “Point is, she's not ready to face Loki by herself.” It was a low blow, but one he had to take.

Clint shrugged out of the hold and laid back down, turning his head away from Phil. Phil sighed and kissed Clint on the temple before ducking out of the room. JARVIS would let him know if Clint needed anything. Getting lost in his morbid thoughts, Clint let time drag on, partly surprised when Natasha came in, a take out container of his favorite soup in hand. He sighed, watching her, noting how she tried not to limp in front of him, but that couldn't hide the bruise on her cheek.

“I didn't think anyone could scare Phil away,” she calmly noted.

“He's not really gone,” Clint muttered.

“Because he would leave you alone with nothing if he wasn't?” She knew Phil was outside, but was willing to do anything to snap Clint out of this. Putting the soup and spoon down on the bedside table, she sat on the bed facing Clint. “Маленький ястреб, it's not your fault. You can't blame yourself.”

“Why not? I let myself be kidnapped, from one of the securest places we know, among people who said they would protect me and the baby.”

“Are you blaming yourself or us?” She stared at him, her green eyes seeming to turn dark.

“I--” He brought his head up, glancing into her eyes before quickly turning away. “I don't know Tasha.”

“You better before it's too late.” Sighing out she leaned on the bed, one hand on the other side of his legs, trapping him. “What are you going to do? Sneak out in the middle of the night and go on the run? Raise her in the circus? How is that going to work with a newborn? You might not run into Hydra trying to rip your head off, but a mugger can still shoot the both of you. Or better yet, someone from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s past who is suddenly so happy to find the guy that helped put him away and his poor defenseless daughter? Then there is--”

“Enough!”

“Is it?”

“I know what you're trying to do.”

“Do you?”

Clint slowly let out a breath. “She will never be safe with me.”

“But she will be loved. She will have a family that will do anything to see her happy.”

“You got injured saving us.”

“I would again, in a heartbeat.” Natasha put a hand on his arm, gently squeezing the muscles. “I've gotten hurt plenty of times saving your ass before. I'll gladly add her into the mix.” Her hand trailed down his arm, taking Clint's hand in hers.

“You shouldn't have to.”

“If you start that again, I'm not going to give you time to recuperate before kicking your ass.”

Shaking his head, Clint looked at her, squeezing her hand, a little unspoken code passing between them.

“Good. Now that your senses are coming back, there's something else.” Worry started to cloud his eyes, but she gave his arm a little tug. “Something you've been waiting for.” Natasha put the Stark tablet she had been carrying on his stomach. “Bruce and Tony were able to do a DNA scan on the baby.”

He never shook. It was part of why he was so good. Yet, now Clint found himself shaking as he picked up the tablet. At least his muscles felt like they were shaking, but his hands didn't betray him.

“Why don't you just tell me?”

“Because I didn't look at it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Wrong. Not for this. You deserve to be the first one to know.”

“Does it matter? She's not purple, is she? Or green like the Big Guy?”

“Nope.” Natasha pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and brought up a picture of Tony holding the baby girl while Bruce checked her over. She showed Clint, whose voice caught in his throat. “But this way you'll know who the father is.”

“I'm the mommy?”

“Always have been, always will be. You carried her to term. Я так горжусь тобой.”

Clint gave her a wry smile at the praise and turned on the tablet, looking over the data on _his_ daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Маленький ястреб = Little Hawk  
> Я так горжусь тобой = I'm so proud of you.


End file.
